


Knut

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sex Work, Sibling Incest, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's something Draco isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nearlyconscious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearlyconscious/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this. 
> 
> Congrats Ravenclaw! We won the cup at [Hogwarts is Home on LJ](http://hogwartsishome.livejournal.com/). So I'm writing my fellow claws Drabbles. This is for [nearlyconscious](http://nearlyconscious.livejournal.com/).

Draco’s a poor substitute for Fred, and he knows it. 

George doesn’t even bother anymore. He doesn’t pretend to care about Draco—he says Fred’s name when he comes, and sometimes he even puts potions in Draco’s hair to make him into something he isn’t. Draco looks terrible with red hair, even if he is pale, and he does, somehow, still look good in most things. But _Malfoys_ just look better blond, and no matter how much money George invests, Draco will never be a _Weasley_.

He’s just a cheap fuck down the alley. The war took everything. He doesn’t have any options, and he never says no, even when he so badly _wants to_. (And worse, even when he isn’t sure.) George never hurts him, technically. Doesn’t even humiliate him. Doesn’t comment on the Dark Mark. But somehow, it hurts more than usual. When he looks into George’s brown eyes in the middle of whatever depraved act they’re doing, George is always looking right through him. 

George isn’t asleep. He’s facing the other way, on the other edge of the bed, swallowed in darkness and covered in blankets, and he always pays for Draco to stay. Draco thinks he just doesn’t like to sleep alone. 

Draco doesn’t say anything, even though he feels awkward and uncomfortable, because he knows he doesn’t sound anything like Fred, and he doesn’t want to ruin a client’s fantasy. He needs this as badly as George does, just for different reasons. 

George mumbles through the silence, “You don’t have to use the potion next time.”

Draco doesn’t say thanks. He doesn’t have any gratitude left. He’s staring at the window on the far wall, and the shadow of an owl swoops past. He hears George rolling over and the blankets scrunching up as George shuffles closer. Then a long, freckled arm is thrown over Draco’s waist, and he lets himself be pulled up to a warm chest. George presses his face into the back of Draco’s head, spooning him tight. 

Draco’s wearing the cologne Fred used to wear. They both used to wear. George says quietly, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t mean anything. Draco doesn’t know what to do with it. He grunts.

George says, “Let’s go out sometime.”

Draco doesn’t know what he wants. He drawls dully, _“Okay.”_


End file.
